The Road to Gateshead
by Commander Of Brontdor
Summary: Unable to handle the life at Thornfield, Edward leaves to join Jane at Gateshead... Rating may icrease with each chapter.
1. Dangers of Intoxication

Skeletons of conversation rattled throughout the Drawing room. Insignificance surrounded him. It oozed across and over immaculate stone mouldings and hardened stiffly in the curdled mouths of stone gargoyles. Jane was gone.

He was sprawled on the couch that Jane used to curl into when his guests were present; who were, at present so happily occupied with the increased lively frivolousness of the conversations of matrimony and gossip and of Adele, who beamed at the chance of being free of a monitor and charmed the mob with her French accented babble.

"And of course" cawed Blanche, in a suddenly louder tone "_I_ would never dream of remaining a spinster; so unfitting of a woman" she shot her eyes in Rochester's direction as she said this; slickly flipping out her elaborately gilded fan and wafting it elegantly "I have already received above a few finely articulated offers…"

Rolling his eyes and rapidly slipping the last of his wine down his throat, Rochester rose and strode to his chambers, shutting the door and with it, the soulless chatter.

"Jane" he whispered aloud "Jane, Jane". He sank to the floor in despondency, furrowing his brow and crinkling his forehead at what she would be doing at this moment; as he sat on the floor of his bedchamber, what activity was she occupying herself with to keep her from forced, tense socialisation with her obstinate cousins? Did he ever enter into her thoughts, or perhaps, her dreams?

At this thought, his features relaxed and, for the first time since her departure, light warmed his gaze. His dreams of her were wild, unbridled; she would be sat on Mesrour, galloping him masterfully over rainswept moors; a determined thunder bursting in her eyes as she pulled him neighing shrilly to his hind legs as the full moon sparked over her moistened skin and lips.

"Edward" clattered a voice at his door; Colonel Dent intoxicated to the point of ridiculousness. "Rochester, open, old fellow" his slurred rambles continued until Edward pulled the door open, sending him stumbling back slightly and making his glass of port slosh dangerously "I say, old… old…" here he paused to savour another gulp "… chap, it's rather… rather bad hosting"

"Colonel" Edward replied, seizing the glass from his hand and clunking it on the washstand "I do believe you have had a little too much"

"_Nonsense_, my man! I had forgotten just how good your late father's taste _was_, finest sherry in the county, finest _wife, _too, you know". Edward shifted uncomfortably before grasping the Colonel's arm and rather forcedly leading him down the corridor "not especially, Colonel, perhaps you should retire to your chambers.

"Speaking of which, old man, where _is_ that little young thing that used to sit in the window seat?"

Edward's ears pricked up and he whirled round to glare at the Colonel suspiciously "what business would that be of yours, Colonel?" he said; straining to remain civil in angry expectation of the thoughts that he suspected were cascading through Dent's head

"yes, not a very handsome little thing, but, you know, my lad, you know!" here he attempted a leering wink

"I would not Colonel, nor should you!" he barked, continuing their journey to the Dent's chambers. "She's a virgin, my lad..! Has a power over us; makes us want pluck that untarnished little –"

Dent's short, shocked cry reverberated off the stone walls of the hallway as Rochester knocked him with a well struck blow to the face "I wouldn't speak that way, Dent, for your own safety!" he spat. Madness had temporarily coursed through his veins as Dent lay there; dazed and clutching his cheek in pain before hurriedly stumbling to his feet; staring Edward directly in the eye and laughed the only words which sounded as though they were grounded in thought "I knew it… I knew it..."

Edward stormed back to his own chambers, presumably leaving Dent to hobble back to _his_. "Jane" he uttered desperately, once he was safely unheard behind his chamber door. Snatching his sight to his wardrobe, he strode to it and pulled out a sturdy suitcase "Gateshead" he repeated, slipping the map out of its pocket and spreading it out on his desk "Gateshead, Gateshead…"


	2. Arrival

Carriage rides at night seemed interminable, and Edward was thankful when daylight eventually bloomed into the cabin. Though his broad-shouldered frame was jotted back and forth only slightly by the persistent rocking, his impatience nudged upward as he thought of the miles that trudged onward under the dull paper white sky.

He slapped the side of the carriage "how long now, Jacobs?" he cried with more vexation than he desired to express

"There's Gateshead now, Sir!" Jacobs called back, swinging his bony hand to the horizon where a most sombre and flimsy spirited manor knelt just behind a slight hillock of road. A hint of deviousness curved at the corners of his smile. "Thank you, Jacobs, set me off here; I shall walk the rest of the way"

* * *

The door loomed: it appeared to sternly question him "what are you doing here? Will the inhabitant behind this English oak appreciate your visit?"

His heartbeat shuddered through his body as he reached for the doorknocker. He slipped it into his grasp and checked his short, heavy breaths. He tapped it against the wood twice.

Even through the dense and unwelcoming entrance arguments from the house lapped at his ears; a soup of indistinct names; until one particular voice; bold but soft, glided easily through all of it. "…no need for argument, Georgiana, I shall answer it" she said.

Her voice immediately soothed his panic. She would swing open the door and smile joyfully; throw her arms around his neck and hold him tightly; whispering confessions of wild and deep love in his ears.

His consciousness whirled from his fantasies; she now stood before him in the doorway

"Sir…" she said, half in confusion, and half (he fancied) in delight.

"Miss Eyre" he replied "I have come to enquire of you"

She stood amazed "enquire? From as far away as..?" her voice trailed off; she seemed plunged into bewilderment.

"Might you explain, Miss Eyre, why you have remained here for almost half of a month?"

She almost grinned at this; but promptly retained self-control "the situation called for me to stay sir; I informed you that - ", from behind Jane rose a voice which flew higher and higher as she reached the door with Jane

"Who is there!? Tell them we'll have no-" this unidentified intruder then stopped and absorbed the most curious mannerisms; her eyes rolled from Rochester's head to his feet, and after this painstaking surveillance was completed, and a conclusion of 'he must have wealth' was silently reached, subtly thrust her generous chest forward and pouted a smile which almost looked practiced as it spread. "We do have a most distinguished guest" she cooed "do come in, good Sir, it shall be raining soon, to be sure, and where would our hospitality be if we allowed you to wonder off and catch some dreadful fit of the cold!" and with that, Georgiana Reed swept her hand into the corridor; beckoning him to follow its direction.

"Georgiana, this is my employer, Mr Edward Rochester" Jane said uneasily. Georgiana's features burst into rapture "you don't mean of Thornfield Hall?" she cried "why, I do believe our late father knew an inhabitant of the place! Why, Jane, you should have taken it upon yourself to inform us of your employment to such a _gentleman_! You must join us in some tea, Mr Rochester".

As Georgiana strolled down the decadent hallway to the drawing room, Jane drew Edward a look which churned with apologetic sympathy and frustration. However, Rochester desired to inspire the most complex of emotions; that which can snap the very heartstrings of individuals, but can also entwine them to another being's: that of jealousy.


	3. The Drawing Room Sun

His gaze soared above the clinking tea set being elegantly sprawled onto the mahogany drawing room table and through the fragrant steam which flickered upward from the particularly sickly Earl Grey and eased instead over every curve of Jane's face; which seemed to deliberately evade his eye.

"I do hope your journey was tolerable, Mr Rochester" cooed Georgiana, elegantly swishing a hand to a servant in an order to have those present served with Tea. As she wittered on, Jane's eyes nervously twitched to his; he held her stare intently as she did so, a shimmering, promising tunnel of hidden desire and adoration poured between their eyes; much to the attention of Eliza, who, sitting primly by Georgiana, had silently and cunningly observed the new guest; this mysterious bearer of swarthy eyes and skin. "My sister asked you a question, I believe" she said, placing her sewing down on her lap to pin her narrowed eyes at Edward.

"Of course, Ms Reed, my journey was very enjoyable" he replied coldly, clicking from his sincerity usually held with Jane to his sociable and charming alter ego he donned at such scenarios as parties. Jane detected this, fearing the reaction of a certain constituent of the four.

Georgiana's eyes illuminated with her own brand of lust; it masterfully combined greed and a strange, rather melancholic pining for a patriarch; a Zeus to her Danae. "I could not help noticing, Mr Rochester" she drawled "that you are as yet unmarried".

The uncomfortable shift and single, heavy blink was subtle in Jane's mannerism; but Edward read into it with ease; she was uneasy at this. The dastardly gears of his mind began to whirr into action. "That would be correct, Ms Reed" he purred, allowing her a glimpse of one of his best smiles; a confident half grin which hinted a primal but playful slyness, and coy glimmer around the corners of his mouth; with which he made a subtle effort to pout. A vexed exhale was barely registered from Jane; as he took it upon himself to listen carefully to her reactions to his flirting with her attractive and wealthy cousin.

"It begins to rain…" muttered Eliza thoughtfully "Mr Rochester" her head swivelled to him "we shall prepare the spare room" she cocked an eyebrow suspiciously at Jane "we could not dream of sending you back out into the mud ridden moors all the way back to Thornfield" before Edward could utter any obligatory protestation; she swept from her chair to the door "come, Georgiana" she added swiftly, pinning her sister with an intent stare "you shall inform the servants of our new guest and I shall ensure the room is suitable".

"Ladies, I would never wish to – " she raised her hand in a brief slice to the air "we have business to attend to – mother's funeral" and with that quitted them both. Edward turned back to Jane as his senses became accustomed to silence; he drank in the sight of her; beautiful and perfect against the bruised burgundy couch she was perched on; but for a fracture of a second, he almost felt a furious jealousy at the daylight which dared caress her skin; which paved the paths that his hand should have travelled.

"What of your guests, Sir?" she asked, raising her head to meet his eye. He was transfixed; words spilled from his mouth and rolled uselessly on the carpet as he stared at her "I told them I had business to attend to" he replied

_What coldness, what icy formality; the kind they had a mutual hatred for!_

Her smile quickly shattered the frozen words of mundanity that fell to the floor between them; there was heat in her smile to power the sun - or rather, a warmth which made rays roll from her beaming eyes. He longed for her to burn him; to slip her into a tight embrace; freeing her of her winter dress and having her heat pour forth.

He rose abruptly from his chair before his fantasy could consume him "to the point miss Eyre" he demanded; as she shot him a look which more than matched his propensity for sudden impetuousness "what means have you for stalling with your cousins so long?"

Her gleeful eye rejoicing in his tone of seriousness "you have come to retrieve me, Sir?" she laughed "because I assure you, I shall stay; my cousins require my assistance with Mrs Reeds funeral" her face slid into features which bore a grave respect. He continued to gaze upon her, his mischievous grin sliding further upward on his face as he said "surprising that such a belle as Georgiana should be a spinster"

"One could say the same of Ms Ingram, sir" she replied firmly. "Ms Ingram, Jane? What of her, what has she to do with me?"

He strode to the window to confirm Eliza Reed's observation. The rain was beating the landscape.

"Ms Ingram has nothing to do with me, Jane. She has abandoned all pretence of harvesting any affection for me and I'm sure is setting her sights on some other money drowned Spoony"

He turned from the window to she had risen and stealthily walked to the door, her head bowed. "Jane" he whispered. She turned, "Sir" she replied "You should leave early tomorrow; you have guests to attend to" and with that she left the room.

Alive with passion, he bounded after her into the corridor in which a waft of clarity swayed through its dusty, silent air; remnants of Jane's path from the drawing room. He traced her to a small doorway at the bottom of the corridor; and followed her inside.


	4. Latin Loving

His air of confrontation was equally matched by her as he stormed through the door "and what if I choose to stay?" he said darkly.

"It is not my decision, Sir, but I recommend that you leave" she firmly replied. "Why" he said. His tone implied that this was a statement rather than a question; the answer, or rather, reason filled the room with its tenseness. They were in love and it was not permitted.

His eyes dashed to the book she clutched in her hand, the corner peeping from behind her skirts. "What are you reading?" he enquired gently "I have been missing our discussions at Thornfield; it was my volume on Indian language that piqued your interest last time, yes?"

She reclined to lean against the wall, smiling slightly "I have missed them also" she admitted "this book is on the Romans"

As she turned to him again, she saw his eyes smoulder as they lay on her, gliding to her lips as he moved closer to her. "I've told you abut my Italian travels to an intimate degree" he said, looking down and smiling at the memory of his recitations: her eager, sharp, anticipating eyes that made him tell her more; made him divulge _everything _to he_r_. She smiled also as she felt her body respond unexpectedly, she appeared to relish the extacious feeling that poured within her as she watched his body move slowly, each breath was traced by her.

"They have a skill for affection, Jane" he sleekly walked to her "especially in loving"

"Loving, Sir?" she whispered in response, glancing at his hands; rounded, vigorous… "They have there a curious science for the kiss". She could not decipher whether the deep, silken waves of his voice were being made intentionally, or whether this was the voice Mr Rochester habitually used with his lovers; wither way, she ached to wrap herself in it.

"Osculum is the kiss of acquaintances; the quick flitter of lips across the cheek… I think we could surpass such formality, couldn't we Jane?"

"Could you surpass such formality with Ms Georgiana, Sir?" she quipped. He smiled wickedly "is this jealousy I detect, my-" he snipped at his lip with his teeth, cursing inwardly "basium is a kiss of affection; a warm and sweet affair, but another kiss…" in one short stride he was inches from her; her eyes closed as she inhaled him "is known as sauvium" he finished, whispering sincerely and gently. She exhaled a quiet giggle "hardly a romantic word for such an act" she said. His arms, warm and strong slipped around her waist, softly pressing them together "it is beautiful, Jane" he was softly breathing her in, whispering in her ear "it is a deep and soulful thing… have you ever kissed a man, Jane?"

She was shuddering with arousal as he held her, her eyes shut, she merely shook her head. Swiftly, he drew his left arm tighter around her as he swept a right hand to caress the soft firmness of her cheek. "Jane…" he breathed, dipping his head to bury himself in the nook of her neck; his mouth open, his hot breath circling her, he stroked her skin with his lips as he huskily murmured her name.

Suddenly, he felt a tug at his hair yank him to face her. The want in her eyes burned him as she pierced him with her gaze; engulfing and devouring him utterly.

A quick flit of a second snapped shut the doorway to their unity as she somberly slid his arms off of her and retreated for the night.


	5. Drowning Edward

Edward lay half covered by his duvet in the bed the Reeds had provided him. It was a clandestinely placed room; a former servant's quarter Eliza had deemed a suitable resting place for the eager lodger. Skimming a hand over his hair and achingly exhaling a languid moan, he arched his back in an a slow, savouring stretch. He was determined to waste the dark hours the night was drowning him with; desperate to drift to the surface of day and inhale Jane's sweet, stinging presence again.

The click of his door handle. He shifted, bathing his mind in the anticipation of who was padding out these soft, nimble footprints to his bed.

A hand over his mouth; a soft, warm and steady hand that made him twist to see Jane looming above him.

His previous fantasies of her were shattered as his eyes waved over her face; her glare, he had imagined marrying her; and in the night, behind the closed door of their honeymoon suite; he would observe her glowing transformation into a pure, tender goddess.

In this intoxicating reality of black and silver, her delicate silhouette had melted into the crushing darkness, her eyes emboldened with a consuming stare that a demon might have when it was surveying its sin ridden chasm of a dwelling place.

He murmured her name through her hand as she slid her leg over him, rolling her pelvis forward on his. She swooped to bend over him, flattening her hand to seal his lips with her index finger

"Shhhhhh…"

He acquiesced wantonly, her nails snipping slightly at his scalp as she clasped a handful of his hair and pulled him up with her. The duvet was now lying ruffled and forgotten at his knees, barely present in his senses. What he did detect, however, was Jane inching her tongue along her lips, leaving them soft, ripe and glistening. An involuntary sigh escaped him and was devoured by the night air that continued to squeeze down upon him, especially as she tightened her thighs around his waist and urged his mouth open with the finger she had used to silence him.

"One day" she whispered, a secret but triumphant confidence searing her voice "I'm going to lay you down in front of a fire when there's a winter storm, and make you sing my name with the rain"

Almost dumb with arousal, he numbly gripped his chance to speak, though heavy, helpless heaves of breaths lapped at his words "I… I've wanted you since the first moment…. First moment I saw you… wanted you… wanted you…"

She hovered her lips inches from his and paused, exchanging and absorbing each other's sweltering breaths and the whimpers that swam in them.

* * *

The short dropping sensation that awoke unsuspecting dreamers made its familiar flicker in Jane's heart. She arose from her pillows, shocked at what visions the specters of her subconscious had just streamed before her sleeping mind. She sprinted slickly from her bed to her washstand, sweeping the wet flannel to her face and allowing the thrilling cold swim through her nerves to her disturbed mind. She placed it down; returned it to the basin and flickered her stare to the mirror above it.

The pink, blooming petals of her lips blossomed on her face, a curious red pollen scattered in them. She placed her curled hand to them, and waved her fingers over them, picturing Edward as she would see him when the morning dripped through the night's horizon.


	6. Righteous Provocation

Eliza's cool gaze settled over the horizon, her knitting absentmindedly looping loosely through her fingers in her lap. Her head continued to blur between images of Jane and her family as children; a crippling shame squeezed her hear and, desperate, clutched at her knitting in her grasp, uttering pleads of forgiveness from God; he offered her a chance to repent for her share in the abuse dealt to Jane. His words were shrouded in piety and goodness as she recited them "conquer evil with good"

She always defeated her siblings in terms of perceptive abilities; the guest was in love with her cousin, and her cousin too had returned his heated glances from which oozed repressed emotion and wishes which Eliza herself considered "sinful".

"Eliza?"

Jane's clear voice was lilted with concern "are you quite all right?"

Eliza smoothed her knitting and swiftly slipping the needles to their work "quite all right, thank you, Jane" she returned with a smile "I see our guest is quite the recluse, has he these habits at Thornfield?"

Jane grinned "he often seals himself away, though often in the library or his study, I cannot imagine what he would be doing in his…"

Eliza detected a crawling blush across Jane's face "what is your relationship like..? I would have thought that a subordinate must have at least an amiable acquaintanceship" she said, feigning absentmindedness

"we have somewhat of a friendship between us" Jane replied. There was something odd in her manner; as though some guilty demon was whispering deviousness memories in her ears

"only a friendship?" Eliza said. Jane straightened up as though she had seen something frightening scuttle across the floor. Eliza's mind wheeled into motion

"I must warn you Jane" she declare, rising and walking to join her cousin where she stood "his regard to you is far beyond the realm of friendship. I would advise you to leave his services; I do not approve of his character…" momentarily, she lowered her head, the pride in herself in her portrayal of the over concerned and interfering relative silently swelling within her "he is one who bears the urges of the _sinful_". Jane's eyes widened "with respect and all consideration of Mrs Reed's illness, I would advise that you keep your opinions of him to yourself"

These heated words were all Eliza needed for conformation; she decided to boldly shove the boat out

"you are in love with him" she claimed coldly. She was met with silence.

"Of course, not only I disapprove of such a union" she continued, "Mama, Georgiana, his _own_ family would despise such a concept". Her preaching left remnants of tenseness in the air; it shook the space between them.

"You should know me well enough by now, Eliza" said Jane in a tone which swam with contradiction; it was determined but curiously resigned. "That when many disapprove of something due the code of convention, I am attracted it" and with that, she retained her usual calmness and left Eliza in triumphant silence. She knew this truth very well of Jane.


	7. Attaining The Moon

Eliza's words still stepped through her ears, echoing their infuriating judgments and accusations. The hot summer's breeze, however, quelled her swelling frustration somewhat, and carried with it a sweet, musky myriad of scents which tingled a curious note of recognition within her.

Mr Rochester's cigar

She found herself stepping toward where he crouched to examine the excited flourish of night dwelling insects: in particular, a tight knot of glow-worms were bending and twisting in the thicket. His eyes flickering with enchanted concentration: he loved the night just as she did.

"A rare one, is she not, Jane?" he said softly, slyly detecting her stealthy presence "externally plain, but inside…" he carefully stood and presented his hand to her. In it, a tiny moth's thick, grey wings swept up and down. "Elegant in her complexity…" her eyebrow jolted upward and was balanced by her amused half smile as she rolled her eyes over his profile: a tender, loving creature swam in his black irises; the night evidently complimented him: his hair and mouth curved against the white-hot silver stencil of the moonlight. She heaved an inward sigh at her desires; to have snuck up behind him chiming an endearment she would reserve just for him and capture his slender waist in her arms, drinking in the vibrations of his laughter as he twirled round to kiss her…

"It is pleasant here" he said, suddenly with grave seriousness and a harassed frown tightening his face. "I do not intend to stay here, Sir. I can assure you of that" she replied, easing the billows of trouble which she was certain plumed through his mind.

He now smiled just as a child would if their grazed knee was freshly bandaged and had then been handed a sweetmeat for comfort. The only crack in the illusion was his cigar that he smoothly inhaled and exhaled, weaving the silver whisps into the night air.

"What would it be like to be in love with the moon, like our little friend here..?" he said softly, turning to her.

"unattainable" she muttered impulsively "cold and distant… but only to those who are merely acquainted with him, but to those who adore him, and have wondered his crags and craters, I would declare him to be of a pure and awe-inspiring brilliance"

He was completely turned to her, ablaze with passion and bewilderment "and is he _utterly_ unattainable?" he husked quizzically "or is he simply teasing his intended to incite interest…?"

"he is rather a tease" she chuckled rather solemnly, averting his gaze.

As she fixed a nervous stare at the grass and the cluster of glow-worms below, she saw Eliza's grave and self-righteous warnings curdle the lush and natural green. Swinging her head upward from the ground she said "I love you".

As swiftly as the words flew from her, he whirled her into his arms and slipped her softly up against the tree "say it again" he pleaded, hovering his lips above hers. Her heavy breathing excelled her words from her mouth "do you mock me?" she demanded.

He angrily muttered something in his heated, rapid breaths as he lightly and tentatively grasped her jaw and delved his tongue into her mouth which began to pour with wanton, carnal moans as their lips sealed together, allowing him t demonstrate his sincere passion.

"Sauvium" she whispered smilingly as he softly halted his kiss to press his forehead to hers; absorbing the look in her eyes: glorious and indestructible like a Gem

"Marry me" he said yearningly

* * *

From her chamber window, Eliza shot intrigued eye s to the pitch silhouette of her cousin and their guest, squinting to trace their lip movements to apply words to them. As she witnessed Mr Rochester blur their shape as he spun her round and round in his delighted hold, Eliza was blessed by the cool wave of relief extinguishing her conscience which now had permission to desist its crackles of guilt.


	8. Comfortable Blankets

Edward awoke with a thrill and dreams of the night before jiggling his veins. He whirled round in his bed to dance his sight over the ceiling, laughing with relieved, euphoric glee. The earliness of the morning, for all he cared, could pause itself and promise him and his love an eternity of loving in the dusty glow of the sunrise; it could not transcend his will to see her.

* * *

The blanket of silence that was smoothed across her bedchamber was ruffled by her jittering doubt. She had, previously and only on occasion, guiltily relaxed into the dizzy delight of fantastical dreams of expressing her love to and for Mr Rochester, but the memories of last night's daze were as fresh as the first daffodils of spring. "When I encounter him at the breakfast table" she thought half mournfully "reality shall establish itself: a dream, or..."

A quiet, tuneful knock drifted through her monologue.

She sprang from her bed in a flicker of curious, but carefully calmed excitement. She slipped her hand around the doorknob and slid it open to reveal her employer.

Their gaze ignited an explosion of quiet between each other. He edged close to her and slowly scooped her into his arms. "It was real" she muttered over his shoulder.

His hair caressed her cheek as he slid them both out of their embrace to face her, amusedly puzzled "you thought it a wild fantasy, did you? Away with such suspicion! I shall be your husband, and you my wife, and I shall pour at your feet all the treasures I can seize, for I mean shortly to spoil you". The possessive smile he brandished as he made these giddy declarations perturbed her greatly.

"Then be aware that I shall repel them all in favour of your regard, your faithfulness…" she smiled in reply "regard!" he laughed "you shall have every inch of my attention…" he pulled her close again, a seductive grin musing on his face "in every way" he finished, whispering.

What stood before her in this moment was something she had only beheld in her dreams and wild, untamed imagination; his dishevelled black mane and hot, throbbing body was haloed by vulnerability: he was hers for the taking. "I cannot wait to marry you" she said, achieving from him a gleeful but rather bashful smile before stretching his mouth into a yawn "you're tired" she giggled, leading him to her bed "I shall permit you to lie here, but you shall be under the covers and I on top" she said "but we must maintain boundaries"

He slipped softly into bed, exhaling a low sigh of comfort and relief as his head fell into the pillow.

"Say it again" he asked fondly as she settled down beside him "I want to hear you say it again..."

She searched his face in the pure glow of the ripening morning and nuzzled herself closer to him, her hair a blazon brush stroke behind her "Yes, Mr Rochester, I will marry you".

He beamed. The duvet scratched out an opening beside him as he tried to snatch her into another caress – she resisted "and I shall be continuing to act as Adele's governess" she said firmly, calming the covers' wild waves with a sweep of her hand "we shall go on as _before_"

Edward groaned "but we're _lovers_" he demanded. "So were you and Celine Varens" she replied gently "I will not be your English Celine Varens*". His features dropped into thoughtful but stubborn disgruntlement, before sharply igniting with a spark of happy anticipation "but your cousins? Mrs Fairfax? We must inform them of our news". "Of course" she admitted happily "we can tell my cousins together, however, I suspect you should inform Mrs Fairfax alone, she deserves to hear such happy news from the boy who she witnessed day by day grow into a man". He chuckled "you think me manly, Jane?"

"I think you _tired_"

He slept. A tranquillity as smooth as the quilt he was nestled in rolled over him with the gentleness of a succession of happy sighs. "I love you…" she whispered to him in a blissful voice quivering with the boundlessly soft and comfortable cloud of her emotions "so, so much…"

***Quotation from **_**Jane Eyre**_


	9. Positively Funerial

Georgiana's Bible and hairbrush slipped off her skirts and slumped silently to the floor in her amazement whilst Eliza's hand merely halted promptly in mid-air before gracefully returning to its swooping in and out of the burgundy cushion she was sewing.

"Marriage!" Georgiana stuttered quietly.

Jane exhaled a weighty sigh of exasperation "you heard correct, Georgiana, Mr Rochester and I are to be married".

Her face curdled into a scowl "you a man of class and wealth!" her head stabbed at Edward before casting her vexation on Jane "and _you_ some lowly orphaned Governess!"

Edward's hand grew tighter on Jane's

"It is dis_gusting_!" she finished with emphasis.

"What is disgusting madam..!" Edward boomed, grasping Jane close to him "is that you have never realised the gift of Jane's presence, her character and mind soar above yours with wings of inherent superiority and beauty!"

Georgiana, as stout as she was, exerted surprising agility as she leapt to Edward and swung her hand in the air, prepared to crash it downward onto his face.

With an equally swift tumble to the ground, however, she was toppled over onto the floor, her face crackling with pain and Jane standing over her. Edward remained unharmed.

"I suffered your family's abuse, Georgiana" Jane said with repressed ferocity "but my husband never shall…"

Shifting to her feet, Georgiana straightened primly to her usual stance; upright and ballooning with a haughty arrogance, and vacated the room.

"Darling" Edward chuckled, cupping her face with both hands "you must, at times, excuse yourself from this self-appointed position as my rescuer"

"She could hardly expect you to take care of yourself" muttered Eliza, smiling playfully. "Eliza?" asked Jane, surprised.

"I predicted well, if I say so myself" said Eliza with triumph, before growing stern and solemn, her hand slowly falling to her lap to fidget nervously with the sewing pin "I am sorry for my share of the abuse I caused you" she said gravely.

"I would spend so long contemplating how I could earn forgiveness…" Jane gazed through her tears at Eliza with a spicy, shocked affection "I hope you will both be very happy" she finished, whispering, an after wave of happiness finally cooling her regret.

"And take no notice of Georgiana" suddenly resuming her disciplined posture, she returned dutifully to her needlework "she was offered a proposal from one who earned a little less than you, Mr Rochester, but now you are to be wed, she should be scurrying out the acceptance letter at present"

Her knitting needles sprightly clacked together as she gathered them up "she harbours jealousy I daresay… Mother's funeral is this afternoon" she said "you will both be welcome" with a sweep of her embroidered cushion cover; she walked from the room, leaving Jane and Edward wading in the aftershock of drama and revelation. "She knew… She knew that I could not contain my feelings if she provoked me…" Jane whispered into the air

"If so" said Edward, "I owe the woman a great debt", curling their arms around each other, they shared a modest kiss which soon turned lingering and urgent with the growing glare of the sun.

* * *

Mrs Reed's funeral was a macabre mosaic of absurd, solemn and morbid: Georgiana, helpless with sobbing which ranged from the painfully miserable to blatantly pretentious, attracted every part of superficial sympathy from the gentry respect payers, including her gentle fiancée; a Mr Roger Hammington of Guernsley House. Meanwhile, Eliza sat statuesque and bolt upright on the church pew, her mouth grim and her eyes clear, an accepted resolve calm and stable in her face. Edward kept flashing his vision to Jane's face both during and after the funeral.

As they stood outside the church, observing the exiting queue of mourners, she spoke for the first time "she was so vehement in rejecting my forgiveness" she said, scanning over the bumps and jags of the gravestones. Edward slipped his fingers under her chin, tilting her head softly to his "that will be your last encounter with rejection" he said softly. She allowed herself to fall into his arms, allowing his heartbeat next to her ear wash away and cool her woe.

They left that night. This was a nocturnal carriage ride he did not mind at all.


End file.
